The Right Choice
by Litrouke
Summary: Edmund begins to doubt himself after an anniversary celebration of the Pevensie's victory. Rated T for a small bit of language, just in case. [Movieverse] [This fic has been more or less abandoned.]
1. Propempticon

The clouds had disappeared tonight, giving way to the glimmering half-moon that grinned down on the rural landscape, rays of faint silver illuminating hills, trees, dens, and nests, as they swept over the serene landscape. The land itself stood still as a painting with no sign of life in the grassy fields or gurgling rivers; no creatures scampered through the night. Oh no, everything was completely hushed, all eyes and ears turned to one place: Cair Paravel.

The drifting breeze of the cool Narnian night carried with it a quiet tune that flowed and crescendoed with cheerful gaiety, wordlessly declaring itself as a song of celebration. An anniversary, in fact; it was a celebration of the White Witch's defeat, exactly two months earlier.

The castle windows glowed, light flickering as the shadows of hundreds of people and animals moved within, dancing and laughing, feasting and celebrating. _Everyone_ had gathered there tonight.

Everyone _important_.

Which was precisely why the youngest Son of Adam was ripping through his bedroom, throwing wardrobe opens, yanking drawers out onto the floor, shoving cabinets over, and flinging clothes, blankets, gifts, and all his other possessions across the room. Every now and then the King would pause, chest heaving up and down frantically, snatching an object off the floor and inspecting it. If he approved, it was shoved into a large leather bag that sat beside him as he hurriedly made his escape.

The boy had been madly ransacking his room for nearly fifteen minutes now, and some slight remnant of sanity in his mind urged him to hurry, warning that someone would certainly find him missing by now. And if they found him before he left…no. No, no, no- it wouldn't matter; he wouldn't let anyone stop him. After all, he was doing this for their good as well as his. For once, Edmund Pevensie would be doing the _right_ thing, no regrets, no hesitations.

Finally, cramming an extra pair of shoes into the top of the over-stuffed bag, he stopped, determinedly telling his heart to slow down and be quiet so he could think. He had to remember everything _now,_ because there was no coming back. Not after that.

Briefly, his mind flitted back to the grand ball just a few minutes earlier. The boy had known it wouldn't go well, but he had never thought…never thought that something like that would happen. It was supposed to be a celebration of _their_ achievements, all _four_ of them, but it turned into a flattering competition between the various creatures as they glorified the humans. First Lucy, of course, who took it well with a little giggle and gasp of happiness as the rabbits and sparrows presented a short, adorable play in her honor, as well as numerous, clever little toys and trinkets. Then it was Susan's turn, which made sense, and his sister accepted the situation diplomatically, as always. Her gifts included a new bow, at least a dozen necklaces and rings, enough flowing dresses that she wouldn't need to wash for a month, and a thick tome bigger than Edmund's head that was filled with ancient Narnian scripts, something they assured her she would enjoy reading. And then came the Great High King Peter the Magnificent, Wonderful, Marvelous, Fantastic, Amazing, Glorious, Heroic, Charming, Perfect. That should have been his title- High King Peter the Absolutely Damn Perfect.

Edmund couldn't even begin to recall all the gifts bestowed upon his older brother. It started with a new crown, as apparently, the old one wasn't magnificent enough for him anymore. That led to new ceremonial garments, new armor, new shields (yes, more than one), a new helmet, and even a new sword, and a pair of daggers. Everything was shining and glorious, jewel-encrusted when possible, finely sewn or carved or forged or whatever the case might be. The outrageous presents continued, from a great glowing jewel the size of Ed's palm to an eighteen-verse, completely choreographed song from the birds to celebrate the High King.

The dark-haired boy had lost track somewhere in the middle of the gifts, eyes growing wider and wider until they began to moisten, a single tear slipping away before he could stop it. No one was watching him, of course, so it didn't matter; everything and everyone was too busy adoring Peter.

And why not? Why shouldn't they love him, cherish him, praise him? He had saved their entire world, had defeated their greatest oppressor, had saved the lives of so many, including that of his little brother. Of his pathetic, little, traitorous brother. What had Edmund done for the kingdom, anyway? Better yet, how had Narnia served _him_? He had been ensnared, drawn unwittingly into a plot to kill his family, then held captive, thrown into prison, dragged through the wilderness, and beaten along the way. Of course, he was saved, but only to arrive to a great, heroic lion leading the troops of purity and righteousness, with Peter standing there beside him, blond hair ruffling in the wind like a mane of his own.

There and then, that very moment, he realized what he should have done so, so long ago. Edmund had to leave; there was nothing else that could be done. He would only ruin the land more; how many times had Susan told him that he only brought trouble and grief to his siblings? Normally that was only after one of his temper tantrums, or reckless capers, but that wasn't the point. How many times had Peter scolded and reprimanded the wild boy's behavior? How many times had Lucy tried to help him, only to end with frustration and tears from both of the children?

No, Narnia was better without someone like Edmund Pevensie.

The boy shoved the contents of the bag down, quickly pulling it closed. He had stuffed enough clothes, food, and supplies in there to last him at least until the wood where the wardrobe could be found. The journey would be easy enough, as long as no one caught sight of him and tried to drag him back to Cair Paravel. They just couldn't understand- just wouldn't _listen_ to him. But he'd try, one last time, to explain it.

Digging through a pile of papers, scrolls, documents, and books, the boy found an empty sheet, yanking it away from the jumble of parchment, along with a pen and ink. He began to scribble out a message, just a short one, because he had to say goodbye somehow, and he'd never manage it face-to-face. Peter would frown and shake his head slowly, like he always did when Ed was being silly, while Susan would scowl and admonish, encouraging the dark boy's quick temper to arise. Lucy would blink innocently, before smiling at silly Edmund, telling him so clearly in her childish words why he was wrong, wrong, wrong. But not this time.

He read over the letter quickly, mumbling the words out loud to make sure he hadn't missed anything:

"Dearest Lucy, Su, and Peter-

Don't worry.

I know what I'm doing for once, and I know it's the right thing. I've already nearly ruined Narnia once and I don't want to get anyone else hurt again. Not any of you, or Tumnus, or Orieus, or anyone. So I'm going back home, where I belong. Please don't send anyone to find me.

Just trust me for once. I promise I know what I'm doing.

Lu, you'll find other people to play games with. I was never patient enough to properly play with you, anyway. Susan, I'm sorry for making you mad so often- I really didn't mean to be so beastly. And Peter, stay magnificent. It's stupid of me to be a king as well when all Narnia needs is you as the High King.

So goodbye. I'll say hi to mum and dad and the professor for all of you.

I love you all dearly,

Edmund."

"Well, that's that," the boy sighed softly to himself, cringing as he glanced around the demolished room. Just another mess he was leaving behind for them to clean up. Picking up the letter and leather bag, he slung the latter over his shoulder, pushing the door to his room open for the last time. Gently, he closed it, letting the note flutter down in front of it. Perfect.

Edmund turned away hurriedly, trudging down the hallway to the side of the castle. As long as he kept moving, he didn't have to actually think; as long as he rushed himself along, there was no reason for any emotion to take control. No reason to cry.

Repeating that thought to himself, the boy broke into a jog, eventually reaching a near sprint as a side door revealed itself at the end of another hall. Throwing his shoulder against it, he let the wood swing wide open, whacking against the solid stone wall of Cair Paravel.

So this was his great escape.

He took a single step out into the cool, motionless night, feeling so out of tune and alienated in the tranquil peace that smothered the land.

So this was his freedom.

The boy took another hesitant step across the grass, then a few more, striding slowly away from the stone walls. As he stepped out of the shadow of the great building, suddenly everything came crashing down, all his anger and jealousy and impulsive decisions. Suddenly, the moonlight illuminated the former King Edmund the Just of Narnia as what he truly was- just a small, unremarkable child named Edmund Pevensie.

But, whoever he was, the boy had promised to do this, had pledged to make the noble, unselfish choice. To do the right thing.

And now, for once, he knew _exactly_ what that thing was.

---

A/N: First CoN fic, so I hope you liked it, though it's based more on the movie-verse than the books, I'm afraid.) I apologize if Ed seemed a little off, but I couldn't help but love this idea. I don't know if I'll continue, but it was a fun plot to use for what-ifs, regardless.


	2. Non Tempere Est

Disclaimer: If I owned it, I'd be busy making the next CoN movie.

Well, you guys are absolutely fabulous. So fabulous that you've guilted me into posting a second chapter, even though I should have written it a long time ago. So here you go (finally)- the second chappie all my dearest reviewers more than deserved. Hope you like it.

* * *

Ice. 

Everything was ice. Ice and diamonds.

The ground felt hard beneath Edmund's back, sturdier than anything he had ever lain on. He imagined it must be made of the same material as the rest of the enormous cavern. The concave walls curved up so far above him that their meeting point was hidden by darkness, which seemed strange to the boy, as the walls themselves half-glowed with a shimmering luminescence, looking much like ice as the sun beat down on it, melting away the horrid cold.

Yes, like ice.

He didn't know when he had gotten here, or where he was; the only spark of consciousness in his mind was a faint warning that wherever this place might be, it was wrong. Dangerous. Cold, sharp, harsh. He knew he should leave, but…the ground was so hard and smooth. And slippery. How would he ever get up?

Like ice and diamonds.

Beneath the faint light it emitted, Edmund could see the peculiar color of the wall, a clear, pigment-less color that was less than even white or blue. And yet, he could see nothing outside; it was transparent but opaque. It reminded him of a frozen diamond, for some reason.

"Ed…?"

The quiet voice drifted across the silence, echoing faintly off the luminescent surfaces.

"Edmund?"

It sounded more urgent now, the single sound all alone in the great emptiness of the cave.

"Ed, please don't ignore me…I know you're here."

The voice seemed close to begging now. A different sound wandered through the great void as a gentle sigh escaped from a pair of frozen red lips. Somehow, Edmund just knew, without seeing or even wondering, that those lips were pouting, pouting at _him_, upset that he wouldn't answer.

"Please- where _are_ you? I don't…I just don't want to be alone…anymore…Ed?"

The dark vertex he had been staring blindly into suddenly burst, exploding soundlessly into a bright golden spark that swirled around and around, blending into itself and twisting away viciously, whirling into spirals and stars and great, wordless shapes that smothered his eyes, sending him into darkness.

"Oh!"

The bright, excited voice broke through the empty, empty, empty space; where had everything gone? Couldn't see anything but the nothingness, couldn't hear anything but that single, chime of a word, couldn't feel anything but the hard, hard, hard he lay on.

Everything, everything was so empty. Like ice and diamonds.

"So _that's_ where you've been hiding!"

The gentle voice had disappeared, replaced by some type of twisted twin that held the same pitch and inflection, but none of its emotion. The exclamation had been sharp and empty, not at all the tempting kindness that had drifted towards him before. And yet, he recognized it, as he had before. It was someone he loved…someone he…feared? Dangerous? Wrong? Cold, sharp, harsh? The twinge of alarm shot through him again, forcing his eyes open. The glowing gold light had dwindled into a small, soft shape close to him- a curl, he decided. A curl of hair.

An ear followed the amber hair, unadorned and small, then a rosy, breathless cheek, a familiar face emerging from the nothingness.

"L…Lucy?" Edmund forced out between lips so numb he could hardly whisper. But she must have heard him, for the girl gave a quick nod, hair bouncing up and down like a curly halo around her.

"Of course! Haven't you heard me calling?" she blinked at him, a smile floating around her lips.

"I- no, I haven't…sorry, Lu, guess I must've…must have fallen asleep…" the boy mumbled dazedly. With all his attention on the girl standing over him, Edmund forgot entirely about his precarious condition lying on the icy ground. Rolling over, he pushed himself up easily and tottered to his feet, feeling dizzyingly light in this place. Lucy didn't seem to notice his stumbling, though, as she kept her hand tucked primly behind her back, offering only an innocent smile for help.

"Well, come on then. Everyone's waiting, and you have certainly kept them long enough with all this sneaking off and hiding," she chided.

"Sneaking off?" he repeated, the phrase catching in his mind as something important, something he should know more about.

"Well, _yes!_" Lucy exclaimed with an exasperated shake of her head. "Unless you'd rather me call it what it really is- running away!"

"But…but why would I run away, Lu?" Ed staggered forward toward the girl. Her words had triggered something painful; his brain was screaming at him, telling him about running and packing and gold and tears and parties and castles and cool night skies. About cool night skies that terrified him- too peaceful, too wide, too quiet. Lucy's lips curved down sharply, eyes narrowed as she glared at him in…in what? Disappointment, fear, anger? What had he done wrong?

"Hurry up, Edmund," she replied stiffly, her young face as smooth and hard as the surrounding walls. "They'll be angry if we arrive much later."

The girl turned away abruptly, marching across the polished cavern, and leaving Edmund without a single glance back.

"Lu!" Edmund called out, hastily stumbling after her. The glistening floor remained as slippery as it had looked, throwing the boy off as he hurried to catch up to her. Reaching his sister's side, he fell in pace with her, though his feet slapped loudly against the ground, obnoxiously proclaiming his presence to the entire world. Her feet slipped along gracefully, hardly rising from the icy surface before they continued their shuffle. Of course, it didn't really matter how noisy his footsteps were, as no one seemed to be around except Lucy and him, but…_everyone_ was waiting for them, apparently.

"Is Peter there?" he blurted out thoughtlessly, causing both children to wince as the silent, sacred tranquility of the great collapsed, completely ruined by his noisy question.

"Of _course_ the High King is there!" Lucy snapped at him, "And so is Queen Susan the Gentle, if you'd care to know."

"Well, I was only asking, Lucy!" he answered heatedly. "You don't have to be nasty about it."

"Maybe if you weren't so _stupid_ about it!" Lucy shot back. "And it would do you well to remember that I am a queen as well."

"Well, I haven't heard you calling me _King_ Edmund," he snarled sharply. He regretted the words, though, as his sister slowed, and then turned all the way around to look him in the eye.

"No, Ed. No, you haven't." Her voice held something almost like regret, some passing sorrow whose tears hardened into ice once the moment of weakness passed. She whirled back around, marching with more purpose and speed this time, her fur cloak fluttering behind her in the still air of the cave.

"…I like your coat," he offered quietly as an apology, falling into a walk behind his sister once more.

"Well, that's nice. Yours is decent as well, I suppose," Lucy replied shortly. The comment confused Ed for a moment- _mine as well_? Patting his back, his hand was rewarded with the warm, fluffy feel of fur; so he did have one. Interesting…but when had it gotten there? Edmund pulled part of the cloak over his shoulder to study, yelping when a sharp pain shot through his finger and hand.

"Lu, it _bit_ me!" he exclaimed, holding up his wounded finger for the girl to see. She half-turned, taking in the small touch of blood dribbling from the cut.

"Wolves do that sometimes," she offered apathetically. "And I really am trying to be patient, but couldn't you even try to remember to address me properly?"

Wolves? The boy twisted his head as far as it would go, peering over his shoulder to see the panting muzzle of a wolf trailing from the bottom of his coat like a bizarre, misshapen tail. Two golden eyes blinked at him as well, peering out of somewhere in the fur.

"Oh. I didn't realize the coat was alive," Ed said simply. Strangely, he wasn't too bothered by the fact. It just didn't seem…important. Turning his head back to the front, he let out another quick cry of pain as something scraped across the bottom of his chin. Looking down, he found that he had cut himself on one of the two clasps of the wolf-cloak; this one was a small diamond, cut in the shape of crown. The boy knew what would be on the other side, and when he turned to look, he found himself correct: a small icicle, chipped away to resemble a crown as well, fastened the cloak to him on the other side.

Ice and diamonds, glittering everywhere.

Everywhere.

He couldn't explain why, but panic suddenly consumed him, shooting adrenaline through his veins and shocking his muscles into frenzied spasms. Everywhere! He gasped, trying to yell, call out for Lucy to help, but the cloak caught as his throat, wrapping around and around until he couldn't whisper a word. The diamond was slitting his throat open; he could feel his blood and the icicle's melting slush meld together, slipping away from his skin.

And Lucy was watching.

He tore frantically at the thick fur constricting his throat, scrabbling and clawing at his own skin as much as at the wolf's. Distantly, he felt a jolt of pain from his knees as they slammed into the hard floor, but then his vision went black, went empty, and he couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't talk, couldn't rip it away from his neck, couldn't do anything.

And Lucy was laughing.

Everything was spinning and hurt, blurry images dancing into view and then receding again before he could blink- his father's boots, sleek and shiny in black perfection, lumps of sugar piled high on a table, slivers of diamond frozen inside a glacier, a golden mane rippling in the air like a proud war banner, finely sewn robes trampled under his own feet, and Peter's sharp blue eyes, so filled with disappointment.

And Lucy was saying- "Didn't you know, silly boy? Only royalty can wear Wolves."

Edmund tried to whisper that he _was_ royalty, he _was_ a king, please, if she would only believe him, he was, he was! He pushed against the blackness, trying again and again to force the words out his throat, please someone help, help, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't _breathe_-

And Lucy was whispering- "It was your choice, Ed. Don't try to fight it."

---

With a hoarse gasp, Edmund snapped up, both hands flying instantly to his neck. He had to get it off, it was strangling him, he needed to- the thought froze in his mind as the blessed sound of ragged breath, flying in and out of his throat, met his ears. Flopping back on the ground with one hand still draped protectively over his neck, the boy waited for the sharp, panicked breaths to slow down, developing into great, long sighs that drained all the air from his lungs and expelled it in one greet whoosh.

It had been just a dream. Just a nightmare. Nothing real, he told himself firmly, trying to convince his thrashing heart that it could calm down and beat at a normal pace, not this frantic sprint. Rolling to his side, Edmund gazed blearily into a tree trunk that looked almost familiar. After a few moments of scrutiny, he realized that it must be the same tree he had staggered to last night, legs exhausted from hours of walking (and quite a lot of stumbling and crawling toward the end). The hazy, half-light of sunlight revealed a very different scene than the dim moon had last night; when he had blundered into the place last night, all that the moonlight had illuminated was the soft cushion of leaves and petals that layered the earth floor. Now, though, he could see the reason for all the fallen leaves- the tree he had slept under was colossal. Its trunk alone looked as wide as he was tall, and, turning his head up toward the sky, he didn't even dare to guess at the towering plant's height. Higher than any of the other trees near it, obviously, because its umbrella of branches and leaves threw a dappled shadow over himself and the rest of the small, shrubby bushes and flowers that crowded around the magnificent tree.

The random shafts of light that fell through the canopy shifted with the breeze, dancing over the ground like a child playing with torches ((see footnote 1)). A trail of circular dots of light led Edmund's gaze away from the awe-inspiring trunk to where his bag of supplies lay, tossed down without a thought yesterday. Sitting up once more, slower this time, he rubbed the side of his head with a wince; perhaps he shouldn't have walked so long last night. The slow, subtle ache of a migraine was already inching into his skull, probably from lack of sleep or excess of exertion. Ed was never one of those people who could go to bed a couple hours late and wake up the next morning feeling cheerful and refreshed; if he didn't have enough sleep, his head announced the fact quite painfully.

The boy let out a soft groan as he tottered unsteadily to his feet. Along with his throbbing head, both his legs burned and ached intensely, another reminder for him not to be as thoughtless as he had been last night. Obviously, he wasn't walking again for that long any time soon.

Staggering with stiff legs over to his bag, Edmund fished out a small roll from his assortment of food stuff. Not willing to sit on the ground and then not be able to rise again, Ed paced slowly around the tree as he nibbled on his breakfast, stretching out his legs as gently as he could. Normally, the boy would have devoured the bun and at least a handful more, but his stomach didn't feel quite so ravenous this morning…maybe it was because of that dream.

Half-stumbling in his mindless pacing, Edmund shook his head to clear away the pang of fear and doubt that came with the memory of the nightmare. The whole thing was ridiculous, albeit easily explained. There were no hidden meanings or symbols in there; it was no ominous foretelling of the future. He had been terrified of wolves and wary of ice since the White Witch, and now he was feeling guilty about leaving Narnia. That's all there was to it.

He nodded quickly, stuffing the last few crumbs of bread into his mouth and brushing off his fingers. Honestly, he hadn't really thought ahead about how he would travel- if his siblings were to send animals out looking for him, shouldn't he travel at night, when they were less likely to see? He considered the idea for a moment, before declaring it rubbish: reaching the Wardrobe quickly was his goal, so he'd travel as far as he could, as soon as he could.

Head still bobbing up and down in a nod, Edmund rounded the trunk, circling back to where his bag lay open…with all those things spilling out of it? He stared at the supplies that looked like they had been shoved aside so something could enter, trying to recall if he had left it like that after retrieving his breakfast.

"I guess I was just clumsy," he reasoned quietly to himself. Speaking out loud made him feel a little safer; if no one else answered, then it just made it that much certain that he was alone in this little clearing. Still, he tried to quiet his footsteps as he neared the sack, crouching down slowly next to it (though his legs screamed in protest against the agonizing movement). His hand crept out hesitantly and he laid his fingers on it with the greatest delicacy.

Even with all his precautions, something inside the bag felt (or heard) the pressure and, of course, panicked.

Rippling with motion, the sack leapt a few inches into the air, lifted by some invisible hand, and then crashed back to the ground with a loud _whump_! Edmund tried to lean away and somehow defend himself, but ended up overbalancing and falling out of his precarious squatting position, landing squarely on his bottom. The bag continued to shiver and its contents rattled feverishly, like a demon raged inside, demanding it be let out of its prison.

Snatching up a stick from the blanket of leaves, the boy quickly snagged it under one of the straps and heaved the bag into the ground, shaking it back and forth as far as he dared without it sliding off the stick. A slender green shape dropped out, smacking into the ground and darting away for a hasty escape.

"Hello!" Edmund cried triumphantly, letting the bag flop on the ground as he chased after the tiny invader. Lunging forward, he landed heavily on the ground, the breath knocked completely out of his lungs from the impact. But that was alright, because…yes, there it was! Clutched carefully between his hands was a wiry little serpent, its scale color almost identical to the grass.

"Gotcha," he declared with a grin, though the expression faded soon enough as he realized what it was.

"You don't look much like a Talking Beast…" he reflected out loud, peering through the little opening in his cupped palms at the snake. It was just a little backyard grass snake, like he had seen at home before; the critter might scare the girls, but Peter and Ed had never been frightened of such a little, harmless thing.

"What do you think you're doing in my stuff, huh?" he asked, although it hadn't answered his first question and very likely was one of the dumb beasts of Narnia, those that couldn't speak. "Bet you're just looking for a safe place to sleep, aren't you?"

Nodding in place of the snake to answer the question, Edmund slowly opened his hands, letting the snake slip through to the ground. It curled around itself tightly, as if to hide from him, but didn't slither away like he thought it would.

"Go on, now…go, you silly snake!" Edmund murmured at it, even giving it a little prod with his finger for encouragement. At the poke, the serpent quickly unwound, rising up and twisting instead around the boy's finger.

"Hey! What did you think you're doi- come on, get _off_!" Ed wiggled his finger, trying to shake the tiny snake's grasp. When it held on, even for a full minute of him waving his finger wildly about, Edmund gave a short, defeated sigh, pulling himself into a sitting position with the animal still latched onto him.

"Fine. You want to join me, go ahead. But it's a long journey ahead, and you won't like it," he warned the animal, using his most serious Peter-imitation voice. When the creature responded only with a flick of its tiny forked tongue, the boy nodded solemnly. Sticking out the snake-attached hand, he managed to awkwardly shake it with his other, so sealing their partnership.

"Very well. I'm Edmund, and you'll be…Monster," he decided on the simplest, most ironic name he could come up with. Still, he couldn't help but smile at his new, silent traveling companion. Slinging his pack over his shoulder (after making sure all the spilled items had been shoved back into it), he patted his new friend once on the head for good luck, before setting off for another day of walking.

And as he set out, leg muscles already complaining by the third step, Edmund had the oddest feeling that any good luck he could get would be very much needed for the journey to come.

* * *

1 - I've been told by a semi-reliable source that what I call a flashlight would have been referred to as a 'torch' by the Pevensie kids…if this is incorrect, feel free to tell me. P 

I know the dream took up a lot of the chapter, and the rest was semi-boring, but…sorry. I have better ideas for other chappies, but this one needed to be a little slow. sighs Guess this means I'm actually committing myself to the story, huh? Chapters should come faster after this now, though, so don't worry.

Once again, much much MUCH thanks, love, and eternal gratitude to you awesome reviewers- Capegio, Jumanji, TimeMage, EllaJ.W., Mist, AM, SteelElf, SugarHighNutcase, JustAnotherNarniaFan, DhonePrgrm, Boleyn, and JediRanger. You guys rock my socks like nothing else.

By the by, if anyone can figure out the meaning behind the chapter titles, I'll…umm…do something special for them? P I'll figure something out. Though I'm not sure even my uber-clever reviewers will be able to figure their significance out.

Thanks for reading and, as always, reviews are loved!


End file.
